


spring showers

by naeildo



Series: amorphous experiments [1]
Category: TWICE (Band)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-18 01:03:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21519367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naeildo/pseuds/naeildo
Summary: Momo disappears on a Saturday. There's little to announce her absence at first, besides the fact that the kitchen cabinet on the far left has been strewn open, a box of cornflakes jutting out because Momo was too lazy to push it back in before running off. On the kitchen counter is a small note, written entirely in Hiragana.Gone fishing. Love you, be back soon.
Relationships: Hirai Momo/Minatozaki Sana
Series: amorphous experiments [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688983
Comments: 4
Kudos: 135





	spring showers

Momo disappears on a Saturday. There's little to announce her absence at first, besides the fact that the kitchen cabinet on the far left has been strewn open, a box of cornflakes jutting out because Momo was too lazy to push it back in before running off. On the kitchen counter is a small note, written entirely in Hiragana, and Sana can picture fondly the image of Momo small and hunched over the counter, carefully inking the characters onto paper, feet wound around the chair legs.  
  
_Gone fishing. Love you, be back soon_.  
  
  
  
  
"I can't believe you forgot the kanji for _fish_ , Momorin," Sana calls out from the kitchen when the door beeps open. Momo always forgets their password and loses the key, so Sana gave up and installed a fingerprint reader. Momo stands outside with her thumb pressed to the air before shuffling in, dark orange hair damp from the spring rain outside, shaking the droplets loose as she steps over the threshold.  
  
"It's difficult," Momo says, already smiling at the scent of soup floating out from the kitchen. The curve of her smile is gentle - earnest, warm, things that Sana forgets sometimes, after a while. Fills her lungs in this moment as the rain hits their kitchen window. Sana turns back to the carrots she's shredding for their meal, listens to the rustle of her shrugging off her jacket.  
  
"I didn't make any food for you," she teases, for the fun of it, and Momo slips in behind her, wraps her arms around Sana's waist from the back. Her shirt is damp, too, from the drizzle, and Sana can feel it mildly through the thin white tee she's wearing, soaking through more from the way Momo presses against her.  
  
"Liar," Momo returns, nosing at the skin of her neck. Sana opts to hum quietly, chopping away at the onions as Momo breathes in and out, chest rising and falling, arms steady against Sana like an anchor. "I'm the better cook anyway," Momo adds, and Sana bristles against her.  
  
"Kobayashi-san gave us a fish this morning," Sana says, after moving the vegetables from the chopping board onto the plate. He'd rung their doorbell in a little black bell hat, fish laid out over a bamboo mat. Sana hadn't quite known what to say, just took it and placed it in the fridge. Marveled at timing of it.  
  
Momo hums. "I like him," she says, "he's nice." Still doesn't move, and Sana has to stretch a bit to open the cupboard, Momo refusing to let go of her.  
  
"Don't be a nuisance." Swats at Momo's hands half-heartedly, but the other girl holds steady, and Sana lets her. Always lets her.  
  
Momo stills for a moment against Sana as she starts removing the plastic from the spring roll wraps, the soup on the stove starting to rise to a boil. "Aren't you going to ask me where I went?"  
  
Sana laughs. Momo melds herself against her, shuffling closer so Sana's hipbones press lightly against the kitchen counter. "Fishing, right?"  
  
"It rained the whole day," Momo says. Turns Sana around by her hips. Her eyes are bright, still, and a little apologetic somehow. Sana reaches up to tuck her bangs behind her ears, scraggly as they are. Momo's never really known how to take care of these details. "Big, hulking thunderstorm."  
  
"So no fishing?"  
  
"I wasn't fishing," Momo says, pouting. Momo had learned the new phrase in an English class she was attending recently, used it everywhere they went, and Sana had indulged her, holding her hand as they strolled by the street of trees. "It was just a figure of speech. Don't play coy."  
  
Sana giggles against her hold. Raises a hand to rub at her chin thoughtfully. "What could be foiled by the rain? Did you go cycling near the river bank?"  
  
"Ask me what I did," Momo says, leaning in again like she's following a light, as if she hadn't slept last night with Sana wrapped under her limbs, trapped Sana under her weight when she'd stirred in the morning, woken by the sunlight streaming through their window. Sana hadn't a choice but to go back to sleep.  
  
"Shan't," Sana says, poking her tongue out and turning back to food before her. "Stop interrupting me before we both go hungry."  
  
Momo smiles at this - the shape of it printed into the nape of Sana's neck. "Thought you said you weren't making food for me."  
  
"Momorin -"  
  
"Ask me what I did," Momo says again, voice high in that insistent way. Then changes her mind, shakes her head. Hair brushing across Sana's shoulders. "No, tell me what _you_ did."  
  
Sana sighs. Momo is warming her in the cold kitchen, breath hot against her neck. "I woke up," Sana says, spreading one spring roll skin out on the table. "Can you turn down the heat for me? First knob." Momo moves to do so, turning the knob carefully. She _is_ better at this, Sana knows, but she's been spent this week, traveling for hours and back and forth to attend dance rehearsals. Today was her free day, though, so Sana won't deny that she's curious - but Momo always tells her anyway, at dinner, or on the couch while they're watching a drama, or at the sink, when Sana is washing the soap out of her eyes.  
  
"Thought of you," Sana continues. "Mm, wondered when you picked up fishing." The other girl laughs.  
  
Momo's finally let go of Sana now, come to stand beside her as she presses out her own spring roll skin. Sana watches Momo's deft fingers, presses the air bubbles out of her own distractedly. "Went to get some groceries."  
  
"Did you use the grocery list I made?"  
  
"Mm." Picks out shreds of carrot from the pile. "The prawns were really fresh, so I bought two packs instead of one. Met Minari for lunch," Sana says, and laughs at the spark of excitement that rises in Momo's eyes, the lift of her shoulders.  
  
"I haven't met her in a while."  
  
"Did you know that she's coming for your recital? Bought a ticket after seeing it on one of those dance websites the two of you frequent." Momo straightens up even further at that, and Sana can almost _feel_ it, the excitement radiating from the other girl. Reaches out to tuck a strand behind Momo's ear, presses a kiss to the skin underneath. Momo colours, still, even after all these years.  
  
"You ruined the surprise," Momo chides, but Sana can tell she doesn't mean it, fingers fumbling with the bean sprouts, a small smile light on her face. Everything is easy with Momo.  
  
"Came home, caught up on my shows," Sana says, and Momo nods along happily.  
  
"Okay," Momo says. Her smile is impossibly wide. "Now ask me what I did."  
  
Sana doesn't know, really, when this aching fondness she feels will turn into something duller. Momo digs out a plate from their drawer, places their spring rolls carefully on it, and Sana thinks: hopefully never.  
  
"And what did _you_ do, Momoring," she asks, yielding, watches Momo's face light up. Places her hands under the stream of running water before letting Momo do the same.  
  
"Woke up," Momo says, "thought to myself that I love you," she says, like it's as simple as brushing her teeth or washing her face. Sana's breath catches. "Stretched. Went to the train station and bought a ticket to Tonami," Momo says, and that startles a laugh from Sana. She turns to take Momo's hands in her own, leaning against the counter.  
  
"You _what?_ "  
  
"There's a tulip festival there," Momo says, lifting the lid off the soup and dipping a spoon in to taste. Reaches for the salt shaker.  
  
"I took a ton of photos," Covers the lid. "Bought a bouquet for you and stood for hours under the shelter when it started raining." Momo blushes. "Practiced my routine a bit when there were less people."  
  
Sana reaches up to take the other girl's face in her hands. "You're an idiot," Sana says, knows that her voice trembles with the weight of something larger than herself.  
  
"We should go together, after you're done with your practicum," Momo says, keening into the touch anyway. Eyes fluttering closed against Sana's hand. "I'm sorry that it's been so hard on you."  
  
Sana kisses her. It's a soft one, gentle in the way that Momo leans in, reaches up to anchor her hands on Sana's cheeks. "I crushed them," she says, when they come apart. "The flowers. While running for the bus."  
  
"And I under-salted the soup," Sana says, laughing. Hands on Momo's hips. The other girl leans in, nose pressed into Sana's shoulder.  
  
"You did," she says, words muffled. It's not an admonition. "Thank you."

_Was there a day, exhausted and weary, dragging home food, arms cut and scarred,  
_ _that you saw yellow flowers and, not knowing what you did, picked them because I love you?_


End file.
